Misplaced Confidence
by blueowls
Summary: Santana x Brittany. //Out of the three, Sue chooses Santana to target.//
1. Chapter 1

**Author Note: **None.**  
**

**Disclaimer:** Mentions things from Sectionals.

**Misplaced Confidence**

As if it weren't bad enough that William Scheuster instills his socially inept mouth-breathers with a sense of severely misplaced confidence, takes every opportunity to smirk triumphantly—also misplaced—at her from across the teacher's lounge as he shoves processed foods over his enormous chin and into his mouth with that doe-eyed harlot grinning idiotically besides him, and has hair curlier than a Brillo pad, he's personally insulted her, because her Cheerios?

Ruined. All of them, or at least the _good_ ones, ruined because of glee. Quinn, pregnant and consorting with the mohawked football player _again_ because she apparently doesn't learn. Brittany, taking orders from Scheuster and not her. Santana, in _love_.

It's absolutely disgusting.

Out of the three, Sue chooses Santana to target. That ever-present blank look on Brittany's face is replaced by a blank _and_ stubborn look whenever they skirt each other in the hall or the freaks see her peeking into the glee room through the window in the door, so she knows she's not going to get anywhere banging her head against _that_ particular wall. Santana is the weak one. She craves power and still cares about what people think, even if they do walk around together, pinkies linked, and she saw them sharing a slushie—a _slushie!_ Her kiwi diet plan, destroyed—before tossing it in some freshman's face.

Sue scribbles a note on a memo pad—_flood glee room with hair gel, effectively canceling practices and permanently damaging piano. Irony will be delicious_—before she looks up, pointing the pen at Santana standing in front of her, who's tapping a foot neurotically as Sue lets her squirm and wonder what terrible punishment she'll bring down upon her ponytailed head. It's a technique she learned in Panama. Works every time.

"You will cease this unhealthy and unnatural 'relationship,' as you call it, with Brittany," Sue says calmly. She waits for a terrified nod or a whimpered 'yes,' but neither comes. Santana stops tapping her foot, her eyes wandering to the window.

"No," Santana says, even though her voice wavers slightly. Then she clasps her hands behind her back, looking pleased.

Sue's unfamiliar with that word. It's probably Spanish, so she gives Santana the benefit of the doubt and chuckles dangerously, pen bending in her clenched fist.

"Pardon?" she breathes incredulously. Santana looks at her, jaw set stubbornly. It's a look she's seen from Brittany countless times, and it annoys her that her Cheerios are _friends_ with each other. And more, sometimes, but she tries not to think about that. Sleepovers and nail-painting and gossiping doesn't make winners, fear of intense physical pain and of a teammate ratting you out to an authority figure does.

"I said no."

Sue's eyes bulge, and Santana takes a step back, biting her lip before turning and leaving. She tells herself Santana got away because she _let_ her, not because she's completely shocked that her loyal, second-best Cheerio would do such a thing.

---

She kicks Santana and Brittany off the Cheerios, but Brittany doesn't seem to have a problem with it, and so by extension, neither does Santana. Santana may mope throughout the day and have a pained look on her face whenever she walks by her office, but she can see through the window that Brittany is always with her, clasped hands swinging between them and head tilted low, whispering in her ear. At least, Sue _thinks_ Brittany's whispering. She doesn't want to consider what else it might be. But it always makes Santana smile a little—disgusting!—and they walk past.

Sue's out on the football field, eyes narrowed and arms crossed as she watches the squad fail miserably, a junior falling from the top of the pyramid onto a freshman, who knows better than to complain. She doesn't want to admit that she needs those three, but the nagging worry that they're not as good as they used to be won't stop plaguing her.

Damn William Scheuster and his cabal of singing freaks.

---

"Let's make a deal," Sue says quietly, because Sue Sylvester does _not_ beg and if she does, then she does it quietly and secretively. Quinn gazes back at her, totally unfazed, and Sue holds her gaze, because at least it's better than looking down at her swelling stomach or at Brittany and Santana holding hands next to her. "I'll overlook your glaring personal defects and let you back on the team if you leave glee. A generous offer, I know, and one you will all—" she points at each one to emphasize her point "—gladly accept. Be on the football field tomorrow."

She's expecting them to throw themselves at her feet and grovel in thanks, but Quinn only arches a brow and Brittany stares at her. Santana looks tempted for a moment, but the hungry look on her face passes quickly, neither of the other girls seeing it. Quinn, like the head cheerleader she used to be, takes the lead and acts as spokesperson.

"We're staying in glee."

Sue snorts dismissively, the very idea of them choosing glee over Cheerios and the prestige it brings utterly laughable.

"Practice is still at four," she reminds them, turning and heading for her office. "In case you've forgotten."

---

It's doubly insulting that none of the three shows up to practice and her plan to flood the glee room only stains and warps the cheap tile. The little freaks trip occasionally over bumps and dips in the floor and have to carry the wheelchair kid in through the door, but other than that, glee blithely and haphazardly manages to make its way to nationals.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author Note:** An impromptu sequel to Misplaced Confidence that deviates a bit from the previous ending, but whatever.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**II**

Before her Venus flytrap died because she's much too busy creating champions to be bothered with details like remembering to water plants, Sue Sylvester learned one very important lesson from it.

Let the flies come to you.

In this case, Santana is the fly. By all logic, she should be begging to be let back on the Cheerios, but after last month's private showdown, Sue's almost given up hope.

Almost.

She suppresses a sneer as Santana walks quickly down the hall, trying to avoid looking at her at all costs. She fails, and Sylvester can see her eyes flick sideways as she passes right by her, almost within arm's reach because the hallway's so crowded. For some reason, Brittany's not with her, so Sue takes the opportunity to lay her trap.

"S," she barks. Instinctively, Santana halts, although she's still facing away from her, and Sue can see her hands, wrapped up around the straps of her backpack, clench. Sue leans back casually against the door to her office—leaning is a sign of weakness, but Santana is less likely to run away if she does so—and smiles.

"Come on in," she says, reaching behind to open the door and sweeping an arm toward her office. "I have something I want to discuss with you."

Santana turns halfway, wary, and Sue would be proud of the fear and paranoia she's instilled in her girls if it weren't getting in the way of her goal.

"It won't take more than a minute," Sue wheedles, heading inside. And just as she expects, Santana appears in the doorway as she settles into her plush chair, leaning back and tenting her fingers in front of herself.

"I don't want to be a Cheerio," Santana says sullenly, still lingering half-in and half-out of the room, a hand tugging on her backpack strap distractedly. Sue looks her up and down slowly, taking in the ripped jeans, the t-shirt, the smudged Converse. She looks like a delinquent, and Sue can only hope this is some despicable glee costume.

"Clearly," Sue deadpans. She waves at the hard plastic chair in front of her, but Santana doesn't move. "I'm just thankful you didn't chop off all your hair and pierce your face considering you've decided to throw away all your potential in life and become part of the gay underground subculture."

Sue lets it sink in, and Santana's eyes narrow as she opens her mouth to retort—a vile habit no doubt picked up in glee club—before she lays down the last part of her trap.

"But what about head Cheerio?"

"Head Cheerio?" Santana repeats, and Sue nods. Santana shifts, her sneakers squeaking against the tile, but she doesn't leave. "What's the catch?"

Sue holds up her hands, a pained look on her face. "Why, S, I'm hurt. There's no catch."

Santana snorts indelicately. "So the fact that Brittany and I—"

"What you do outside of Cheerio practice is no longer of any importance to me," Sue interrupts, because if there's anything she doesn't want to hear more than backtalk from her Cheerios, it's the disgusting details of Brittany and Santana's relationship. "As long as you show up at four every day and win nationals."

Santana wrinkles her nose, but Sue's not even worried that Santana will decline—they're having this conversation, so the girl is obviously swallowing everything she says.

"Think about it," Sue prompts before she rises dismissively and picks up a dumbbell that's serving as a paperweight. "Let me know what you decide."

* * *

It's with no small amount of satisfaction that Sue lays down her bullhorn, watching from the sidelines as Santana marches through the rows of terrified Cheerios, berating them mercilessly and slinging orders left and right.

Sue doesn't know why she didn't think of this sooner. Q was an absolutely ruthless head Cheerio, but Santana tries twice as hard to be better than her. It only proves to her that intense competition will always breed better, more vicious champions. They go through the motions of the newest routine, but Santana deems it sloppy and, with a nod from Sue, orders them to run laps.

Santana has one of the girls—Betty or Becky—pulled aside and stares down at her as she speaks, but Sue's too far away to hear what they're saying. In any case, she's interrupted by someone walking alongside the track—nearly stepping in the way of two exhausted Cheerios—and settling in the first row of bleachers, backpack in her lap and legs crossed at the ankles. Sue would recognize that blonde ponytail and distant expression anywhere.

Brittany.

It's a delicious twist, and Sue smirks as she keeps an eye on Santana, wondering how the girl will take it. The rest of the Cheerios have run the required laps and stumble back onto the field, a few dropping to the grass, and Santana turns, cutting short her conversation with Bambi or Bridget and ordering them to the locker room with a few last stinging insults.

Sue lingers on the field, picking out a straggling Cheerio to gather the equipment for her and haul it back, hoping to catch a glimpse of what will be a messy showdown that will give her prized Cheerio back. It doesn't come, though, because Santana turns on her heels and flounces toward the locker room, completely missing Brittany. Sue looks to the bleachers to see Brittany rise, shouldering her backpack and taking the stairs two at a time and walking across the track toward Santana's retreating figure.

The Cheerio she picked out, however, is a freshman and unaware of the danger in asking her for clarification, and by the time Sue's cut her down and told her—again—what she wants picked up and where to put it away, the two are out of her sight. Now in a foul mood, it's only luck that Sue passes by the door to the locker room on her way to her office and sees, standing just outside, Santana and Brittany.

Santana's shoulders are slumped and she looks down and off to the side, while Brittany stands too close to her, head bowed and a hand curling around Santana's waist, the other trying to tilt Santana's chin up. It's absolutely outrageous, and biting her tongue, Sue moves to the side before either can see her, waiting in the shadow of a near-by tool shed that houses the golf carts.

"S, you can't be a _secret_ cheerleader. I would've found out eventually."

Sue hears nothing from Santana, and then a sigh from Brittany.

"If you really want to be a Cheerio again, I'm fine with it."

There's more silence that could be good or bad, depending on how the conversation develops, before Santana speaks.

"I didn't want you to think that being a Cheerio was more important to me. Like, it _is_ important, but not more than you."

There's a giggle and the scrape of shoes on asphalt, and Sue can only imagine with horror that they're getting closer. Knowing full well that she won't like what she sees, Sue peers around an edge of the tool shed to see the two of them standing even more closely than before, if it's even possible, Santana's hands on Brittany's shoulders.

"Well, when you told me you weren't coming over because you had to 'do something,' it was kind of a big give-away because on Wednesdays we always—"

"Yeah, B, I know. I'm a dumbshit. Forgive me?"

Brittany nods and then leans in and presses her nose to Santana's with a smile, and Sue has to bite back the bile rising in her throat. She whirls and leaves without a word.

* * *

"Take that," Sue says, pointing toward a bright red McKinley High sack in the corner of her office, "and take it to the drycleaners. I want it back by tomorrow morning, S."

Santana stands open-mouthed next to her, and Sue struggles not to smile with glee as the girl looks down at the bag of Cheerio uniforms with distaste. Humiliation is as good as exhaustion in keeping her Cheerios in line, and Santana is not spared. In fact, Santana's _targeted_, because she's the most likely to cause trouble.

"But-"

"But what?" Sue says loudly, and Santana's mouth snaps shut. "And there's mandatory practice from three until six starting today until nationals. I need my head Cheerio there _every_ day."

"But glee rehearsal," Santana begins, a frown working its way across her face as the information sinks in. Somehow, glee has managed to make it to sectionals, but the Cheerios are on their way to nationals, and soon enough, Santana's going to have to choose. Sue would not trade that fateful day for all the money in the world.

"It's _mandatory_," Sue repeats, picking up the sack and dumping it in Santana's arms before slamming the door shut behind her.

* * *

Sue has the plane tickets to Singapore—because it was so nice the first time, no one saw a reason to change the location—in her hand and is prepared to wave them in William Schuester's distorted features and gloat. She has a hand on the doorknob to the glee room, trying to decide weather to fling it open dramatically or take a more casual approach, when she hears Santana. She pauses, discreetly peeking through the window in the door, and sees her head Cheerio sitting in a chair, with Schuester in another chair sitting opposite her, and for some reason, Brittany's sitting cross-legged on the floor, texting. They seem to be talking and haven't noticed her, so Sue takes the opportunity given her and eavesdrops.

"I know this is a difficult decision for you, Santana," Schuester says in that friendly tone he uses with children, "so I want you to know that we—the glee club—support you whatever you decide. If you pick the Cheerios, we can always have Jacob stand in as your replacement."

Santana sighs loudly, crossing her arms and looking away, but whatever she says is drowned out by a roaring in Sue's ears.

"This is outrageous!" Sue shouts as she storms through the door. Schuester, Santana, and Brittany look up with wide eyes as she points a finger at Schuester, jabbing at the air wildly. "You are trying to _sabotage_ my Cheerio team and _ruin_ McKinley High's only chance at having a nationally recognized team compete on a global level! I will _not_ stand for it!"

Schuester stands, hands help up in a placating gesture and mouth open, but Sue turns on Santana, eyes narrowed.

"And you!" she hisses, holding up the tickets pointedly. "Do you want this or not?"

Santana stares at her, wordless, before she holds out a hand, eyes downcast. There's a heavy sigh from Schuester as Sue smiles triumphantly, instantly calmed, and places the ticket in Santana's hand. The girl looks at it, reading over the tiny printed text, and an uneasy feeling settles over Sue as Santana looks down at Brittany, who's staring up at her with a disappointed expression, and then at Schuester.

Words could not possibly describe the rage Sue feels as Santana neatly rips the ticket in half.

* * *

Sue's not sure whether to hide the disgraceful second-place trophy or show it off, because even without Santana, they managed to place fairly well. But second place isn't winning, so Sue shoves it behind her desk, deciding to deal with it later. She slumps down into her chair, still fighting jet lag, and attacks her desk, which is cluttered with the papers that have built up over the week she and the Cheerios were gone. On the top of the pile is the McKinley High newspaper, folded to highlight the front page.

There's an article about glee and their success at regionals and invitation to nationals, complete with a picture of the glee club right after they were presented with the trophy. The little freaks are all smiles and hugs, unlike her exhausted Cheerios, and the thing that stands out the most is Santana and Brittany with their arms around each other, Santana pressing a kiss to Brittany's cheek.

* * *

Will looks at the small pile of ashes heaped on the piano as they all traipse into the room, and he sighs as he shakes his head. He turns to see Santana holding out a trashcan to him with a smirk, and he sweeps the remains of the newspaper into the trashcan before they all settle down and get to work on their set list for nationals.


End file.
